


Possessive

by Vitanitas



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Codependency, Drabble, M/M, this fic is kinda weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 12:26:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vitanitas/pseuds/Vitanitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They will chain their hearts together, and drown with the other willingly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possessive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Makava](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makava/gifts).



Neither is sure how it happened, but neither truly cares.

But what Tony knows is this: Loki is _his._ From Germany onward the god captivated him, and he _wanted_. The man was beautiful, intelligent and quick. He gave in so prettily when Tony attacked him, but he could feel the rebellion, the hidden power beneath the façade and Tony wanted to see what would happen next.

He was serious, when he called Loki ‘his stuff’. He had made his claim then and there.

He made his claim again later, after the battle of New York, in the rubble and ash of his penthouse suite.

The gag had been left on, but Loki was by no means unresponsive; he pushed and pulled Tony closer, impatient and insistent. They fucked hard and fast, Loki’s shackles a pleasant weight on Tony’s back where Loki had wrapped his arms around him.

He _claimed_ Loki, his mouth, his flesh, his cock, the place between his legs, all of him. The claim was made with nails, teeth and tongue, branding his name on Loki with each thrust, bite and scratch.

( _And in the interim Loki returned the favor, claiming the mortal in return. The mortal intrigues him with his gall, his machinery and determination, the way his body flexes as they fuck, his rough hands on Loki’s skin. He twines their souls together as well as their body, for the God of Mischief is made of jealousy and spite and none else should have what is rightfully his.)_

In the end, Loki returned to Asgard bruised and limping more than he had been after the battle; his armor covering the markings on his flesh and his chains clinking in a mocking chorus of their earlier rutting.

For months they communicate with the device Tony slipped into the trickster’s clothes. Whenever Tony had a spare moment or Loki’s guards weren’t watching, they speak through its tiny speaker and screen, the image sometimes broken and blurred.

 They were not all friendly chats of course; the gods tongue is fearfully sharp without its gag, and Tony has never been known to be one to hold back anything. But they did speak often, battling with taunts and jibes since they could not touch.

Slowly, the words soften. Regrets, fears and hopes begin to slip into their conversations, lost in sleepless nights they converse and chain their hearts together tighter, link by link.

And then there are extremis and dark elves; the device is destroyed in the chaos and the only connection they have is that chain.

Bloody, and broken after days of battle with nothing to look forward to but a blank white cell, Loki grabs that chain-

And pulls.

~~*~~

It is the third week since Loki returned. There had been pain in his chest followed by a tear of space in his lab, the wind and pressure so intense he couldn’t scream. When the portal had closed and shattered glass covered the floor like a sea of stars, Loki laid there amongst them, bloody, but very much alive.

So Tony took him in cleaned him up, and Loki made himself at home. Held Tony when he needed it, was there for him when the nightmares struck, when his guilt rose like bile in his throat.

Loki didn’t feel nearly as guilty about his past, but he understood darkness, of stars and explosions and the never ending _fall_.

Yes, Loki understood the horrors of the void like Tony did, like no one else could. In this way they held onto each other tightly, each the others lifeline from tumbling into the abyss.

Thor tries to take Loki back. He knocks on their bedroom door, and does so often, pleading to see his brother, to at least speak with him.

Tony tells him no, and shuts the door in his face.

( _And from the bed he can hear Loki whine, breathless and desperate. “Yes…”)_

Shield comes next, but the Tower is locked tight, Tony’s machines and Loki’s magic keeping all who are not welcome from entering.

Asgard is not pleased, the counsel is pissed, and for many days it seems as if destruction will be the only way they can stay together until finally a deal is made and the weapons are at last withdrawn. They won’t need to obliterate the realms, to be together, and they’re glad. Because they probably would have destroyed each other instead.

When the heat dies down, they go about their business as usual. Tony continues as Iron Man, and Loki comes and goes as he pleases, but they can never stay apart, they know where they belong is with the other.

The press calls their relationship strange. Headlines of erotic codependency and different theories of one keeping the other locked away for days. They’re not far off from the truth.

Tony doesn’t like it when Loki’s away, when he talks with Thor or Natasha.

Tony wants to tattoo his logo on Loki’s lower back, the tramp stamp of all tramp stamps so everyone _knows_ Loki is his property. Or maybe around his neck; like a collar.

( _And when Loki is called a pet by his mortal worshipper, it feels like home_.)

Loki calls him his _fylgja_ , beloved. Tells him he is his devoted mortal worshipper, and Tony knows it’s true, know he’s caught in this web of theirs just as much as Loki, who spirits him away in the middle of meetings and battles, unable to wait for him to return. Who holds him, and refuses to let go when he’s injured or sick.

( _Loki wants to keep Tony forever, if it means a golden apple for Tony or giving up his own immortality he does not care which. Neither death or life will keep them apart, of this he is certain._ )

Words can’t express the desire, the need they have for each other. Time apart is like being in an endless ocean; you can only swim so far before you drown.

They entangle themselves in their hearts chains, tighter and tighter until they can barely breathe. It’s unhealthy, it’s wrong and it’s probably destroying them both.

They know this.

But as they twist and writhe beneath the sheets, and their hearts weep for the distances their flesh creates between them, neither can bring himself to care.


End file.
